


Jealousy At Christmas

by Dopredo



Series: The Moments In-Between [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt Leo Fitz, Jemma Simmons Is Bad at Flirting, Jemma Simmons Needs a Hug, Leo Fitz Feels, POV Jemma Simmons, POV Leo Fitz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 09:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dopredo/pseuds/Dopredo
Summary: Christmas one-shot: Simmons returns to Sheffield with Fitz for the Christmas holidays, and rekindles her friendship with her estranged childhood friend, making Fitz jealous. Gives some insight into Fitz and Simmons’ family life. Set between seasons 3 and 4.





	Jealousy At Christmas

‘Have you got the bags, Fitz?’ Simmons called as she trotted out of the Quinjet, balancing an armful of presents. 

‘Yeah, yeah I’ve got them.’ Fitz called from somewhere deep inside. The team had dropped them off at a deserted part of Suffolk, about 170 miles from Sheffield, where they would be spending the Christmas break. They didn’t want to draw attention to where Simmons’ family lived because they never knew who was watching, and they were living in a time where Hydra agents were everywhere.

‘Oh Fitz, you’re going to make us late. We’re meant to be there by five and you know what traffic is like on the A1!’

Fitz tumbled out of the Quinjet, falling face-first into the snow. He looked up grumpily and Simmons snorted.

‘Oh Fitz, you’re such a klutz!’ she laughed.

‘Oh Fitz this, Fitz that.’ He heaved himself up from the ground and grabbed the bags. ‘I would be faster if you helped out a bit!’ 

‘But I’ve got the presents!’ She pouted cheekily. Fitz raised an eyebrow and hauled the bags into the boot of their hired car. He slammed the door and jumped into the driver’s seat. It was habit for Fitz to drive, as he always drove after a night-out to allow Simmons to get drunk. Also, when Simmons was driving, she had this annoying habit of getting so excited about something she was talking about, that she would start swerving on the road. Since it was icy, Fitz figured it wasn’t worth the risk.

After a few hours of driving, FitzSimmons arrived on the outskirts of Sheffield. It looked beautiful in the snow, and it was rare to see it that way at Christmas time, because the snow usually only came mid-January. Simmons was excited about her picture-perfect Christmas with Fitz. It was about time they got some downtime after everything that had happened with the monolith. 

When they were about five minutes away from Simmons’ home, Fitz decided it would be a good idea if they stopped at the Londis to get some flowers for Simmons’ parents (after all, the last time they had visited had been to tell them to call of the funeral because Simmons wasn’t actually dead). Fitz was a bit nervous about seeing Simmons’ family again, because he knew how much they liked to question him about his job, even though he basically wasn’t allowed to talk about it at all.  
Fitz and Simmons jumped out of the car and walked quickly towards the sliding doors of the local Londis. Inside they filled their basket with much more than merely flowers (a typical English tradition when in food stores), whilst laughing to themselves about how much they’d missed shopping for their own food.

‘It’s weird being here. It feels like we almost have a normal life.’ Fitz smiled.

‘Yes,’ Simmons grinned, stuffing a chocolate orange into the basket, ‘it reminds me of our Academy days… Bunking off class to watch films and eat cake all day!’

‘Jemma, we did that once…’ Fitz laughed. ‘And you were ill!’

‘Yes… But you weren’t!’ Simmons teased.

As Simmons passed around the next corner, splitting off from Fitz to go and look for the flowers, she bumped headfirst into a tall, dark haired man. Even on first glance he was extremely handsome: his eyes, which lit up when he saw her, were dark hazel and his charming smile revealed something vaguely familiar about him.

‘Jemma Simmons. It can’t be.’ He grinned. ‘After all these years…’

Jemma smiled apprehensively and bit her lip. The man looked down, still smiling sweetly.

‘I’m Mark… You probably don’t remember me. We went to Parkside together.’

‘Oh gosh! Of course!’ Simmons’ eyes lit up and she grinned. ‘I remember you, obviously – it’s just you look so different! Mark, how are you?’

‘Ah I’m alright. I’m a parent’s guidance councillor now, which is cool. All the training paid off I suppose.’

‘You’re a therapist...’ Simmons gazed at him reminiscently. ‘I thought you wanted to be an astronaut.’ She giggled.

‘Well, you know I realised I got travel sick, and that was it,’ he joked, ‘it was a tragedy.’ 

Simmons snorted.

‘I remember clearly how you got travel sick, Mark. That time on the bus…’

‘Oh no! The time on the bus! There was sick everywhere.’ Mark chuckled at the memory and shook his head. ‘So how’s life doing you? I heard you were doing well for yourself – medical research isn’t it?’

Simmons opened her mouth and nodded dumbly. Suddenly Fitz came up behind her, saving her from yet-again failing to lie with dignity.

‘Hey Jemma, have you got the flowers yet? Oh, who’s this?’ Fitz looked up at the towering man above him and frowned. His height and good looks made Fitz feel uncomfortable; he’d already lost Jemma once to a sexy war-hero, and he wasn’t keen on the idea of it happening again.

‘Hi, I’m Mark.’ He smiled, holding out a hand in acknowledgement.

‘Fitz.’ He replied quickly, accepting his handshake.

There was an awkward silence for a second as the two men looked at each other intensely. Simmons coughed awkwardly, breaking the silence. She sighed exaggeratedly and smiled.

‘Well, we better find those flowers. We’re already late.’ She nodded at Mark and then moved past him, towards the flower section. Once they had chosen their flowers (which took purposefully long enough that they wouldn’t grudgingly meet him again at the checkout) and bought them, they got back into the car and drove the rest of the way to Simmons’ house, talking about something to do with microbiology (which was their go-to topic when they were avoiding what they really wanted to talk about).

Simmons’ house was as beautiful as Fitz remembered. It was a little thatched cottage, hidden away from the rest of Sheffield. In the winter it looked more lovely than ever: the snow outside glistened in the dim light of the two small lanterns either side of the door, and the fairy lights twinkled tranquilly in the window. Fitz and Simmons meandered carefully up to the door, their boots crunching softly in the snow that was now falling more heavily around them. Simmons reached out and knocked confidently on the solid door.

It was her mum that answered, a beaming smile strapped to her mouth. After a few hours of embracing, settling in and drilling questions, FitzSimmons were ready to head to bed. It was Christmas Eve, and they’d had a long day of travel, not to mention Simmons’ parents had made an awkward assumption, and had given FitzSimmons the double room. Having arrived late, Jemma didn’t want to cause any problems, so she accepted it gratefully and moved her bags upstairs. Strangely when Fitz found out he didn’t seem too fazed, explaining that they had shared tighter spots throughout their time at SHIELD. Jemma couldn’t argue with that.

********************************************************************************

Christmas morning was perfect. The family (plus Fitz, its honorary member) spent it opening presents, and dancing around the kitchen to Christmas songs. Fitz was happy to see Simmons reunited with her family, as (although she kept it to herself) he could tell she missed them frequently, and since life at SHIELD was like a vacuum, it was good for them both to get a taste of what their life could have been.

The real problem came when Mark and his family arrived for Christmas lunch. Yet again, as FitzSimmons had arrived late, they had been unaware that they would be having lunch with them, and this would not have been a problem had it not been for the meeting in the shop. Fitz couldn’t help it: he was jealous of the man. Perhaps the worsening factor to his jealousy was made noticeable when Simmons jumped up to meet him. Fitz’s blood boiled and a vein pulsed in his temple.

‘No.’ He thought. ‘I’m better than this. I’m not going to ruin family Christmas for Jemma.’  
He scratched his head and waved at Mark. Simmons’ mum noticed he hadn’t got up to meet them, so she walked up to him and gave him a friendly bat round the head.

‘Come on Leo! What are you doing sitting there? Come and help me set the table.’

Fitz felt like he was 16 again. Nevertheless he was happy to be with Jemma’s family again; since his father had been so indescribably poor at his job, and his mum was left alone most of the time, his family felt a certain kinship towards Jemma’s. Just like every year, Fitz’s mum would be arriving soon to join the celebrations.

Fitz pulled himself up from the floor and moved into the kitchen to set the table. Mark and Jemma were sitting there discussing something about growth. 

‘Growth,’ Fitz thought, ‘why on earth are they discussing that?’ The conversation quickly moved on as Fitz walked into the room. Jemma smiled at him kindly.

‘Is it bringing back memories, Leo?’ Simmons grinned. Fitz blushed in a grumpy way, which Simmons always thought made him look cute.

‘Yes it is, Simmons.’ He replied, making her roll her eyes slightly. Mark frowned in confusion. Simmons turned to him and explained how that was what she was called at work.

‘It’s very… old fashioned.’ Simmons gulped. Fitz tied desperately to hold in a giggle; the statement couldn’t have been any more untrue. They had met aliens and monsters, had travelled to different dimensions. Their best friend was a famous inhuman and their team was sprinkled with ninja killing machines. Simmons bit her lip at the lie.

‘So why don’t you want to be called Leo in everyday life?’ Mark asked, pulling up the chair next to him for Fitz to sit on. Fitz ignored him and sat down on the chair next to Simmons’ mum, facing Simmons.

‘Oh, well basically my dad was a bastard, and I didn’t want to take the name he’d given me. When work offered me an alternative I was happy to oblige.’

‘Yeah, I was quite happy to use surnames as well…’ Simmons said thoughtfully. ‘Besides, had we used first names, “LeoJem” wouldn’t have had quite the same ring to it!’ Fitz laughed. Being the only one who understood, he realised the joke must have been aimed at him.  
Simmons dad, who had popped up behind Fitz, smiled awkwardly and then adopted a more serious tone.

‘Perhaps no more talking about work, eh?’ He warned, worried that Jemma might say something she’d regret. Simmons nodded in understanding and then changed the topic onto holidays.

Once the turkey had cooked, the table had been set (primarily by  
Simmons’ mum who gave Fitz a scolding later) and Fitz’s mum had arrived, the extended family sat down to eat. Fitz’s mum’s reaction to seeing her son was very similar to that of Simmons’: a mixture of both intense rage and affection. 

‘You look so different.’ She smiled, ‘it’s been so long.’ Fitz looked at the ground, a tear rolling from his eye. He felt guilty for leaving her alone for so long. He pulled her in to an embrace.

‘I’m sorry mum.’ He sobbed, ‘I love you so much.’

********************************************************************************

Throughout Christmas dinner, the flirting between Mark and Jemma was astonishing, but luckily Fitz was able to ignore them as he had a lot of catching up to do with his mum. She told him what she had done in the past few years, the people she had seen. It seemed like she had really picked her act up and got herself a social life. Nonetheless, had Fitz had told her what he had done in the past few years, it would’ve made her life look completely dull. Luckily, Fitz was excused from talking about himself, on the basis that “work didn’t allow it”.

After dinner the family sat around the dinner table to play spoons. Fitz thought that it was perhaps the most fun he had had since he and Simmons had convinced a drunk Daisy to knock on Coulson’s door, holding a sign saying “For Sale, £50”! Once Coulson took a picture of it, she didn’t live it down for weeks!  
In spite of that, Fitz was curious as to why Jemma was spending so much time with Mark. What was so interesting about him? Fitz started watching closely at their conversation but, as-per-usual, Jemma was one step ahead and immediately noticed Fitz was watching, and blushed bright red.

‘Hey Fitz, are you ok?’ She smiled. Fitz furrowed his eyebrows in inspection and Mark looked nervous.

‘Yeah, I’m ok…’ He said, ‘but are you?’ Simmons laughed awkwardly and coughed slightly.

‘What are you talking about? I’m perfectly fine – you’re the one inspecting my conversation like an overprotective brother.’

‘Brother! Is that still what you see me as?!’

‘What? No, that was phrasing!’ Simmons sighed, putting her head briefly in her arms.

‘Right… phrasing. I bet that’s what you said to Will as well.’  
Fitz stood up dramatically and stormed from the table. Simmons, and the rest of the family looked shocked. There was a slight pause and then Fitz’s mum spoke up, looking worried.

‘Is he like this a lot?’ She asked, directing the question at Simmons.  
She bit her lip and paused. The colour had drained from her face slightly.

‘A bit more since…’

‘Will.’ Her father said, ‘who’s Will?’

Simmons sighed and looked at her spoon.

‘I think I better explain.’ She looked at Mark and smiled guiltily. ‘I’m not a medical research professor,’ she winced, adding to the confusion, ‘Fitz and I work for SHIELD.’ Mark’s eyes widened and he moved away from her slightly.

‘Is it safe?’ He worried, ‘are you safe?’

‘Yes.’ Simmons smiled. ‘But you were right to react that way. With everything that’s happened with SHIELD over the past few years, even I don’t know who to trust anymore. But… mum and dad, it’s about time you understood everything Fitz and I have been through. Because it’s been an awful lot…’

Once Simmons had explained everything, from becoming a field agent to being trapped on Maveth, Hive’s multiple personalities and Daisy’s superpowers, almost everyone around the table was in tears, Fitz’s mum in particular. She reached out to grab Simmons’ hand and gave her a wobbly smile.

‘I understand my son. For once, I understand him. Thank you. He never would’ve told me all that.’

Simmons smiled back kindly.

‘I just thought I needed to tell you. Now you can understand why he reacted like that. I think I need to go and talk to him. He’s probably calmed down now.’

Simmons removed herself from the table quietly, but everyone’s eyes were still on her. She was beginning to regret telling them everything... She would never hear the end of it. She checked in her old bedroom, the spare room and all around the house, but couldn’t find Fitz anywhere. He clearly didn’t want to be found. Simmons thought for a second, casting her mind back to where Fitz would go when he was upset at the Academy: somewhere quiet and always slightly uncomfortable. He was going to be outside in the snow, just to torture himself a little bit. That was his way.  
Simmons ran back downstairs, grabbed her coat and opened the front door. Sure enough, there he was.

‘Oh Fitz, what are you doing out here?’ She cooed, wrapping her coat around herself more tightly.

Fitz turned his face away from her slightly, not wanting her to see his tears.

‘Go away Jemma,’ he grumbled, his voice slightly muffled by his coat, ‘you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel about me.’

Simmons frowned confusedly.

‘Oh? How have I?’ she asked. Fitz turned to look at her and scowled. ‘Wait, is this about Will? I thought I had explained this to y—’

‘—This isn’t about Will.’

‘Really,’ Simmons grumbled, ‘because you seemed pretty cross about it at the table.’

‘No, it’s not Will. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said what I did.’

‘Then what?’ she exclaimed. Fitz turned his head and motioned to Mark who he could just about see through the window. ‘Wait, this is about Mark?’ Simmons laughed. ‘You think I fancy Mark?’  
Fitz shrugged.

‘I dunno. I don’t even know any more Jemma. I mean you’ve been talking to him all evening.’

‘Fitz, it’s going to take more than one handsome man to make me give up on you! I thought you knew me better than that.’ she grumbled.

‘Fine. What were you talking to him about then? What was so interesting about this one, unusually attractive man?’ Simmons sighed and bit her lip. ‘Go on!’ he pushed.

‘I’ve been talking to him about children!’ She yelled. ‘I want to have children.’

Fitz was taken aback, but when he thought about it, also quite relived.

‘You… want.’ He struggled to get the words out properly. ‘You want children?’

Simmons rolled her eyes and blushed.

‘You always assume the worst of me. Yes I want children. Things are just starting to work out for us, and honestly, we may not have another chance. Anything could happen between now and the end of our next mission, and I feel like we should take each new adventure as it comes.’

‘But then why were you talking to Mark?’

‘Mark is a parent guidance councillor. He works with people who are in situations that aren’t completely suitable for kids, and works out a way for it to be possible. I was terrified about telling you because you’ve never mentioned it to me. I just assumed it was something you didn’t want.’

‘Well… no… I don’t not want kids, I’ve just never really thought about it. And, ya’know I just don’t know if I’d be a very good dad…’

Simmons pulled him into a hug and kissed him softly on the cheek.

‘I think you’d be a brilliant dad.’ She smiled. She wriggled free of him and knelt to the ground. Hurling a handful of snow at his head, she ran in the opposite direction to escape his reflective shot. Within seconds they were caught-up in a full snowball war, and once they were adequately exhausted and freezing they fell to the ground, giggling. Their argument was officially resolved, but whether they would have kids would have to be a conversation for another day. A day that wasn’t Christmas. Fitz spun on the ground so that he was facing Simmons, and reached out to stroke her hair.

‘Jemma,’ he mused, moving towards her so that his face was only millimetres from her’s, ‘I’ll race you to the last mince pie.’


End file.
